


sing a concert in the hall of you

by weatheredlaw



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5813749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want to feel like this. All the time.” </p><p>“Then you must kiss me,” she says. “All the time.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	sing a concert in the hall of you

**Author's Note:**

> i like all of you  
> i want to roll up in a ball of you  
> i want to breach the castle wall of you  
> and sing a concert in the hall of you  
> -"sing to me", walter martin and karen o

She joins the Inquisitor in the Hinterlands after a few weeks of solitude and training. Getting out, Evelyn reasons, will be good for her. The fresh air will give her strength. The work will make her happy.

Cassandra disagrees, right from the start.

But she has never let grief get in the way of work, and so she goes, begrudgingly enough, but the exhaustion must be evident. They rest far earlier than usual, using Dorian’s rather miniscule wrist injury as an excuse. Cassandra doesn’t argue, but she doesn’t remain with them at the lakeside camp, either. Walking for hours, listening to Varric and Dorian’s banter and Evelyn’s cheer has certainly given her some strength, but she’s worn down – the melancholy will not leave her, and she isn’t sure how to expel it. Taking her dagger, she ventures away, finding herself in relative solitude, only the feint glow of the campfire and the laughter of the troops a sign that she is anywhere near an Inquisition flag at all.

The full moon illuminates her reflection – even in the imperfect mirror of the water, she can see her own tears. They will not stop, and she cannot throw off this heavy burden, not yet.

Not when the memory of Daniel’s dying breath lives as an echo between her ears, the last thing she hears at night, if she sleeps at all.

“You shouldn’t wander off,” someone says, gently. “Gives old men like me a fright.”

Cassandra breathes. “You are not _old_ , Varric.”

“Getting there,” he concedes, and comes to rest next to her. “Dorian whipped up something to eat, thought you might be hungry.”

“I am not.”

“ _He_ thought you’d be hungry,” Varric corrects. “I told him you wouldn’t be. Freckles sent me to come looking for you.” He leans gently on her arm, for only a moment, before pulling back. Cassandra pulls her knees up to her chest. “But…I’ll leave you be,” he says, and moves to stand. Cassandra grabs his arm.

“No,” she says. “No. Please…stay.” The tone of her voice surprises even herself, but Varric remains, nodding and settling back down by her side. For a while they are silent, looking out at the hills of the Hinterlands. In the distance, the Market glows with activity. Cassandra feels a bit of pride, knowing that they’ve helped bring life back to this place. And she tries, so very, _very_ hard, to hang onto the feeling –

But it slips. It slips right from her fingers, quicker and quicker, the tighter that she tries to hang onto it. It slips – along with her composure. Along with a sob she has been holding back, possibly since she left Skyhold, she can’t be sure.

Varric starts at the sound. Cassandra flushes, and pulls away – but he takes her hand, keeping her close.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s alright. You can be upset, Seeker. You’re still hurting.”

She shakes her head. “No. I don’t…I no longer wish to feel this way.”

Varric chuckles, his grip tightening on her hand. “Sometimes that doesn’t really matter.”

“Why shouldn’t it? They are my feelings. I…I want them _back._ It is hardly fair to…to—” That _sound_ escapes her again, and now Cassandra cannot stop it. It falls from her, each one, unbidden. Her heart is hammering in her chest, and her hand in Varric’s own trembles. She feels tears drop onto the clenched fist in her lap. Varric angles himself closer, falling into her line of view.

“Seeker.”

“It isn’t _fair_ ,” she says. “It isn’t fair at _all._ ”

“No,” he agrees. “It isn’t. But you’re breaking my heart.” He reaches for her other hand, and Cassandra opens her eyes. “You keep crying like that, Seeker, and I just might have to kiss you.”

The sentiment takes her by surprise, but it does what she supposes he intended it to do –

She laughs. It is her first in so long, and the noise startles a smile out of him.

“There she is,” he says. “See? All – _mmph!_ ” Varric jolts as Cassandra leans forward, capturing his lips in her own. Perhaps he hadn’t been serious, and she may never know – but Cassandra cannot stop herself from following through. The feeling, the warmth of his mouth on hers – it melts the cold she’s been holding onto for so many weeks, and her hands still as she reaches up to cup his face in her hands

Varric moans, softly, grasping her forearms gently, holding her close. It is a good kiss, her first in so long, and Cassandra is _happy._

That takes her by surprise just as much as anything else.

 

* * *

 

They return, and Cassandra sleeps for almost an entire day. No one bothers her, and when she wakes there is a tray of tea and cakes sitting on her desk, with a little note folded under the pot.

_Hope you’re getting your rest. Take the time you need – V_

Cassandra smiles, pouring herself a cup of hot water and brewing a strong cup from the tin Varric’s left for her. Something from the Marches, she notes, and enjoys it, along with a book, for the rest of the afternoon.

 

* * *

 

On business in Val Royeaux, she walks by herself for a bit and spots a bookstore, ducking inside and combing through their historical texts. She finds exactly what she’s looking for, having the owner wrap it and slipping it into her pack. When she arrives back at Skyhold, she has a young courier deliver it to his room, along with a note.

_I am feeling much better, the tea did wonders.  
I found this history of Orlesian murders on our trip. – C_

 

* * *

 

They don’t talk about the kiss. But, Cassandra reasons, they do not really have to. Something warm settles between them. Cassandra finds that Varric is gentler than she’d imagined – there is often tea and cake there for her when she returns from a journey, and she has had whiskey and fresh ink brought to him many times, when she knows he is about to arrive at Skyhold. The look on his face each morning after is worth the little bit of work.

She is rewarded with another chapter of _Swords and Shields_ , and sometimes another story or two.

And then all this business with Hawke comes to a head – and Cassandra is no longer the one trapped in a prism of her own ache, struggling to escape.

 

* * *

 

She finds him on the battlements, leaning forward, so far over the edge, his face gaunt with exhaustion.

“I’m not gonna jump,” he grumbles, as though she is not the first to wonder. “I’m only wondering about the benefits of freefall. It’s research,” he explains, but doesn’t look at her, avoiding the truth that will bloom between them if he does, she’s sure.

“You have been gone from me. From…us.” She reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder. “I have missed you.”

Varric sighs, finally looking up at her. They both settle along the wall, staring up at the stars. It is a familiar feeling. Cassandra’s heart skips a beat.

“He asked the Inquisitor to look after me,” Varric murmurs. “She’s a mess.”

“She feels guilty.”

“She shouldn’t,” he says. “Hawke does what Hawke _wants._ He was always like that. Something wasn’t quite there, he yanked until it was. Not unkindly or anything. He just…knew what he wanted out of life. Only thing I was ever jealous of. That idiot had expectations for everyone, and he pushed until he got it.”

“You know what you want,” Cassandra says.

“Do I?” Varric glances at her. “I feel like I do, it’s just…out of reach.” He smiles weakly. “I should go talk to Freckles, make sure she doesn’t make herself sick over this.”

“Later,” Cassandra urges, and takes his hand.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Later.”

His voice breaks. Cassandra knows the feeling all too well. It is strange, though, to see it come from someone else. She’s never considered the thought that Varric might be capable of tears, or even such heartbreaking melancholy – but here it is, unfolding like a dim ember in her palms. She feels herself grow weary, taking in his ache without thinking.

“Please don’t, Varric. _Please._ ”

He laughs bitterly. “I sure do wish I could stop,” he says.

Cassandra bites her lip, grasping both of his shoulders suddenly, turning him toward her. “You _must_ stop crying. I will have to kiss you if you don’t.”

His eyes widen for a moment before he smiles broadly.

“Will you, Seeker?”

“Absolutely.”

“Try it,” he challenges. “It just might work.”

Cassandra stares, for only second, and then smiles back.

She kisses him, feeling his hands rise up to elbows, holding her close and sighing into her mouth. She cups the back of his neck, tongue sliding against his own. It is more fervent than their first, and more significant, she suspects. Varric tugs, and Cassandra slides into his lap, looking down and kissing him deeper, framing his face with his hands. He laughs against her mouth, and Cassandra says, quietly, “You do not have to stop feeling sad.”

Varric pulls back. “I…I know. I just…having you here makes it…shit, I don’t know.” He kisses her again. “It’s easier, this way. It hurts less. I wish—” He swallows. “I want to feel like this. All the time.”

“Then you must kiss me,” she says. “All the time.”

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and pulls her down to begin again.


End file.
